Bright luminary of the world, begat
On Perse, daughter of Oceanus. 170
Our vessel there, noiseless, we push'd to land
Within a spacious haven, thither led
By some celestial Pow'r. We disembark'd,
And on the coast two days and nights entire
Extended lay, worn with long toil, and each 175
The victim of his heart-devouring woes.
Then, with my spear and with my faulchion arm'd,
I left the ship to climb with hasty steps
An airy height, thence, hoping to espie
Some works of man, or hear, perchance, a voice. 180
Exalted on a rough rock's craggy point
I stood, and on the distant plain, beheld
Smoke which from Circe's palace through the gloom
Of trees and thickets rose. That smoke discern'd,
I ponder'd next if thither I should haste, 185
Seeking intelligence. Long time I mused,
But chose at last, as my discreter course,
To seek the sea-beach and my bark again,
And, when my crew had eaten, to dispatch
Before me, others, who should first enquire. 190
But, ere I yet had reach'd my gallant bark,
Some God with pity viewing me alone
In that untrodden solitude, sent forth
An antler'd stag, full-sized, into my path.
His woodland pastures left, he sought the stream, 195
For he was thirsty, and already parch'd
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